there’s something wrong with him. You know, in the head.”
“Well of course there’s something wrong with his head. He smokes whackweed continuously. That stuff doesn’t exactly make you a scholar, you know.” Hatter tapped the side of his head. “Kills the gray matter. But don’t tell ‘Pillar I said that.” He folded his up-brella and stored it away inside his hat before replacing his hat on his head, setting it at a jaunty angle. “I would think it obvious that you’re in Wonderland. And of course I exist. I’m here, aren’t I? Now, I’ve answered your questions. It’s only fair for you to answer mine.”
“Wonderland? You mean the place Alice always talks about? That’s ridiculous. There’s no such place!”
“Yet, curiouser and curiouser, here you stand squarely in the center of it. And that was another question, by the way. Really, do I need to explain the rules again?”
Frustration made Henry want to scream. Did everyone talk in riddles around here? “What rules? What are you talking about?”
“Tsk, tsk. Those are two more questions! Really, you’re as thick as mud. I’m beginning to think Alice is the bright one in your family.”
This time a frustrated sound broke free of Henry’s control. It began as a rumble deep in his chest, rolled up through his throat and exploded through his lips in a fierce snarl.
Hatter’s dark eyes widened, although there was no fear in them, only interest. His lips quirked in a half smile. “My, my. Alice certainly never growled. I’ll give you points for originality. Very ferocious.” He crooked a finger at Henry to follow, and began walking. “All right, since you obviously have a sad lack of understanding regarding the rules, let me explain.” His hands, encased in tatty, gray fingerless gloves, had long, elegant fingers, and they traced patterns in the air as he spoke. “Here in Wonderland, there are rules we must follow. These rules keep the universe in motion, the planets aligned, and the cosmos free from chaos. Rules must be followed at all times, without deviation… unless, I suppose, the rule is to break the rules, in which case, following the rules may actually be regarded as breaking them. So sayeth the Queen. Do you understand now?”
Henry shook his head. “No.”
The Hatter grinned. “I should have expected nothing less.” He beckoned Henry to quicken his step. “Come, come. It should be around here somewhere. Oh, wait… there it is! That’s what I’ve been looking for. Thank goodness those mimsy creatures, the Borogroves, didn’t carry it off. We’d have a devil of a time getting it back from those gloomy birds.”
“Mimsy? Borogroves?” Henry shook his head. “You’re making that up. Just like Alice did.”
“Me? I beg your pardon. I never speak anything but the truth. It might be bendy at times, perhaps a bit swirly, but still, in the end, always the truth.” Hatter led Henry to a large bottle, easily the size of a Buick. The bottle was green and lying on its side in the grass. “Mimsy, for your information, means something that is both miserable and flimsy. The Borogroves certainly fit that description, I can tell you. Floppy, glum birds, they are, and prone to snatch away anything they find so that whoever lost it is bound to be as depressed as they are.” Hatter looked at Henry. “Give me a hand with this. We need to roll it over.”
They placed their hands on the bottle’s cool, slick side, and pushed until their teeth ground and their spines popped. Just as Henry was sure the bottle would never budge, it began to roll, inch by inch. They kept pushing until a golden label was revealed. It was grimy from its time spent lying in the dirt, but the words printed on it were perfectly legible.
It read, “Drink Me.”
Hatter laughed and slapped the bottle with the flat of his hand. “This is the very same bottle your sister drank from, if I’m not mistaken, and it looks like there’s plenty left over.
“Well of course there’s something wrong with his head. He smokes whackweed continuously. That stuff doesn’t exactly make you a scholar, you know.” Hatter tapped the side of his head. “Kills the gray matter. But don’t tell ‘Pillar I said that.” He folded his up-brella and stored it away inside his hat before replacing his hat on his head, setting it at a jaunty angle. “I would think it obvious that you’re in Wonderland. And of course I exist. I’m here, aren’t I? Now, I’ve answered your questions. It’s only fair for you to answer mine.”
“Wonderland? You mean the place Alice always talks about? That’s ridiculous. There’s no such place!”
“Yet, curiouser and curiouser, here you stand squarely in the center of it. And that was another question, by the way. Really, do I need to explain the rules again?”
Frustration made Henry want to scream. Did everyone talk in riddles around here? “What rules? What are you talking about?”
“Tsk, tsk. Those are two more questions! Really, you’re as thick as mud. I’m beginning to think Alice is the bright one in your family.”
This time a frustrated sound broke free of Henry’s control. It began as a rumble deep in his chest, rolled up through his throat and exploded through his lips in a fierce snarl.
Hatter’s dark eyes widened, although there was no fear in them, only interest. His lips quirked in a half smile. “My, my. Alice certainly never growled. I’ll give you points for originality. Very ferocious.” He crooked a finger at Henry to follow, and began walking. “All right, since you obviously have a sad lack of understanding regarding the rules, let me explain.” His hands, encased in tatty, gray fingerless gloves, had long, elegant fingers, and they traced patterns in the air as he spoke. “Here in Wonderland, there are rules we must follow. These rules keep the universe in motion, the planets aligned, and the cosmos free from chaos. Rules must be followed at all times, without deviation… unless, I suppose, the rule is to break the rules, in which case, following the rules may actually be regarded as breaking them. So sayeth the Queen. Do you understand now?”
Henry shook his head. “No.”
The Hatter grinned. “I should have expected nothing less.” He beckoned Henry to quicken his step. “Come, come. It should be around here somewhere. Oh, wait… there it is! That’s what I’ve been looking for. Thank goodness those mimsy creatures, the Borogroves, didn’t carry it off. We’d have a devil of a time getting it back from those gloomy birds.”
“Mimsy? Borogroves?” Henry shook his head. “You’re making that up. Just like Alice did.”
“Me? I beg your pardon. I never speak anything but the truth. It might be bendy at times, perhaps a bit swirly, but still, in the end, always the truth.” Hatter led Henry to a large bottle, easily the size of a Buick. The bottle was green and lying on its side in the grass. “Mimsy, for your information, means something that is both miserable and flimsy. The Borogroves certainly fit that description, I can tell you. Floppy, glum birds, they are, and prone to snatch away anything they find so that whoever lost it is bound to be as depressed as they are.” Hatter looked at Henry. “Give me a hand with this. We need to roll it over.”
They placed their hands on the bottle’s cool, slick side, and pushed until their teeth ground and their spines popped. Just as Henry was sure the bottle would never budge, it began to roll, inch by inch. They kept pushing until a golden label was revealed. It was grimy from its time spent lying in the dirt, but the words printed on it were perfectly legible.
It read, “Drink Me.”
Hatter laughed and slapped the bottle with the flat of his hand. “This is the very same bottle your sister drank from, if I’m not mistaken, and it looks like there’s plenty left over.
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